Seven Brothers, So Little Time
by Freida Right
Summary: The eldest of the 7 dwarves reflects on some of the changing moments in his fraternal history. Even before Snow White came along, being the oldest of 7 wild brothers isn't easy... Based on the Dinsey version; Doc's POV


It isn't easy being the oldest of seven brothers.

There have been many time that I've wondered what the seven of us would be like if things had been just a litte different when we were growing up. For exapmle, what if Dopey had never been born? Why couldn't we have just said that finding that pixie hollow was really cool and left it at that? And why_--why?--_didn't I just let Grumpy have that last cookie, like Ma told me to?

These are some of the thoughts that keep me up at night. Well, since I have someone's attention, why don't we explore these questions for a bit?

Let's start out by saying that I, Doc, am the oldest, followed by (in order) Grumpy, Sneezy, Sleepy, Bashful, Happy, and Dopey is the youngest. Sometimes remembering who belongs where in this order can be confusing, but that is _completely_ beside the point. Let me also point out that these were not always our names; these were our Ma's pet names for us. Except for me, we honestly can remember what our real names are anymore. Bashful and Happy, being the two youngest, never really got a chance to find out what our names really were and just called us by our nucknames as kids. I guess it kinda stuck...

Getting back on track, things would have been much different for most of us if Dopey hadn't come along, making our trademark seven. He was your typical baby, mild mannered and cute while sleeping and annoying when when awake. He was always a major thorn in our sides when we were kids... except for Happy, who never seemd to mind him for some reason.

This wound up being a big problem for all of us. By the time Dopey was born, we were already spending a good deal of our time building mines and excavating the contents of them. This was only possible because we had developed immunities to any chemical substances we might unearth in our digging; elements such as sulfur, chlorine, and the most dreaded: lead. But it was safe for us because, as I said, we were reasonabley immune to these.

But not Dopey, who followed us all over the place. Even to our mines.

At first, this wasn't much of a big deal. He was a fairly soft spoken kid without much to say, and he seemed content to sit on a log or in a cart and watch the rest of us working. So long as he had a few toys, something to eat, and maybe some of our jewels to look at, he was no problem. In fact, he was so quiet that we sometimes forgot that he was there.

I'm not sure to this day exactly how it happened, but I'm pretty sure that it went someting like this:

Remeber now that Happy never minded Dopey tagging along like the rest of us. So, naturally, if Happy was going somehwere, Dopey was probably somewhere nearby. This must have happened while we were taking a break for lunch, because the rest of us never saw the two leave. I think it had something to do with the big diamond deposit we had just discovered and had spent most of that week working around. I suppose Happy didn't think it would hurt for Dopey to come and see it...

The deposit was big; even now, 15 years later, it's one of our crown jewels. (Pardon the pun...) Unfortunately, we had unearthed a small deposit of lead right next to it and didn't realize because it had no effect on us. Sadly, since Dopey hadn't developed his immunity to lead like the rest of us, the lead we had unearthed got to him and, in time, it became difficult for us to teach him much of anything. We had hoped for him to eventually join us in our mining, but that lead beat us. He pretty much stopped talking altogether, (though he had never talked muh to begin with.) and his mind wandered easily. Instead of actually helping us, he'd goof off and do something else.

Luckily, it put no strain on Dopey's relationship with Happy, so they've remained closer than most of us. For that I am grateful: that hasn't been our only problem, as you'll soon see.

_Way_ back before Dopey, before there was even a Bashful, there was this really neat place near a pond. It was a small glade with tall trees all over the place. At night during the Summer, you could hear singing and pipe playing and fiddling coming from there. If you stood in our backyard and looked out that way, you could see faint lights moving around.

Ma knew exactly what those lights were: Pixies.

She also told us that pixies are highly territorial and that we shouldn't go deliberately looking for them, if we knew what was good for us.

At this point, Sleepy was an energetic little tike who also followed us everywhere. ('Us' was only Sneezy, Grumpy and myself.) And it was actually Sleepy who found the Pixie Hide-Away, as we came to call it. The four of us were fishing in that pond one day and didn't realize that he had wandered away until he sprinted back shouting, "I found them! I found them!"

We abandoned our fishing poles and went to see what our little brother had found.

A rotting tree trunk lay in front of us; the bark was so old that you could see faint pastel pink, green, and blue lights glowing within the trunk.

"It's pretty neat," I had to admit.

"Ma said not to go looking for them," Sneezy reminded.

"We didn't maen to find them," Grumpy pointed out coarsly. "Besides, _he's _the one who did the finding," he added, pointing an accusing finger at Sleepy.

"C'mon, you three, let's get back to the pond," I suggested and led the way back. Grumpy and Sneezy fell in line quickly, but not Sleepy. He was still entranced by his amaxing find. So I went back and hauled him away. Finding the pixies was really neat, but they might get mad if they decided that we were bothering them.

However, several days passed and even my curiosity got the better of me. The four of us _had_ to go back and look one more time. At least that's what we told ourselves.

That's what we told ourselves about five times until the pixies had enough of us. On our sixth visit to the rotten trunk, the pixies attacked us and chased us away. We weren't hurt... that time.

As the eldest, it was definitly time to set my foot down: no more visits to the Pixie Hide-Away, or Grumpy (who was bored with them) and I were telling Ma. This threat was enough to keep our brothers attention for a few weeks, but then they blew me off and went back into the glade.

The way Sneezy relayed it, they only meant to go in enough to see the tree trunk and the glowing lights. He claims they barely went in. He also claims that they were hinding in some bushes so the pixies wouldn't see them. And the plan worked, to a point.

It was the middle of Summer, and everything was blooming. You know what that means: _pollen_, Sneezy's worst enemy.

After a while, Grumpy and I heard someone sneezing like a maniac. The sounds that followed were: a highpitched battle cry, our brother's yelling, and then the two of them crashing through the grass. Our little game of hide-and-go-seek came to an abrupt end as we ran to defend Sneezy and Sleepy.

We got there a little too late, however. One of the pixies threw a fine, shimmering powder at Sleepy and he stopped dead in his tracks. He stared blankly into space for a moment and then collapsed on the ground, snoring loudly.

The effects of the powder wore off by nightfall and Sleepy woke up saying that he felt very well rested, but seemed to still be sluggish and tired. We all guessed that that pixie threw so much of that sleeping powder on him that it wore off, but, as a side effect, it made him sleepy all the time.

Poor Sleepy... He was only six years old when this happened.

My last thought for your consideration is one of my earliest memories of me and any of my brothers. I was five, and Grumpy was four; Sneezy was about to turn one, I think. But, once again, that is irrelevant.

The event in question is mostly about cookies. Being four and five, Grumpy and I loved cookies. I, being the oldest, usually hoarded more for myself and made sure that Grumpy knew that. Naturally, Grumpy hated this. It always made him really mad at me. (See where this is going yet?)

One day, it just so happened that it was down to the last cookie in the cookie jar.

"You _always_ get the last cookie!" Grumpy was complaining.

"I'm older, so _I_ get the last cookie," I informed, bitting off half of it.

"You should share with your brother, Doc," Ma scolded. "You'll have more one day, you know."

I ignored her and bit off half of what I had left.

"I want that last piece! If you don't, I'll never be nice to you again!" Grumpy warned.

I pretended like I hadn't heard him and popped the last piece of the cookie into my mouth.

And, true to his word, he's never been nice to me again. In fact, his almost never nice to anyone unless it pays off in the long run. There are a lot of times I wish that I had just shared with him instead of being such a selfish jerk.

No sir, it is definitly not all fun and games to be the eldest of seven brothers. If I weren't the natural leader, maybe I would have had the time to get a little closer to them, like Happy and Dopey, who are joined at the wrist to this very day. I kinda wish that I could stop being their leader and just be their big brother for a change.

But then, at least Grumpy's not the leader...

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No, Doc, being the oldest isn't a picnic at all. Especially not when you're a girl and younger ones are both boys and one has mild autism. Now _there's_ an exciting, testing, and yet somehow _enjoyable_ ride. At least Rhys, our youngest, doesn't have lead poisoning...

It's harder in real life, because you don't just have brothers and sisters who look up to you: you also have cousins, friends of your siblings, siblings of _your_ friends, and little kids from church.

Well, at least _I_ do...


End file.
